Fading
by i-have-a-llama-army
Summary: It is a casual night around the campfire for the Fellowship until after a stream of hurtful comments about his painful past from Gimli make Legolas snap. But with Legolas refusing any help, will the Fellowship find a way to reach their stubborn elf's heart before it's too late?
1. Hurt

_A/N: A pretty short story to give me a little break between "Caught"_ _and it's sequel. I hope you like!_

"We will stop here for the night," Gandalf announced, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. "Someone get a fire going."

Boromir did just that as the hobbits sat in a small circle facing outwards, leaning on each other's backs as they sighed in their weariness. Gimli sat on a large rock, placing his axe by his side on the ground. He was staring at Legolas, and mumbling something about "stupid elves and their trees" as the elf immediately climbed into the nearest tree, sitting on a low branch and pressing his forehead against it, closing his eyes to listen to its words.

Aragorn smiled lightly and sat down next to the dwarf.

"Do not speak ill of Legolas for things he cannot change, Master Dwarf. It is in his Silvan blood to be able to speak to the trees, and to love them as friends."

"Silvan? I thought Mister Legolas was Sindarin?" said Sam, piping up with a fact he had heard from Frodo. He had said Bilbo had told him that Thranduil, the Elvenking, had been the Sindarin ruler of the Silvan elves of Mirkwood. Why would Legolas, as his son, be any different?

Aragorn glanced at Legolas, noting that he was watching from the trees, his blue eyes glowing like a cat's and the rest of his body barely visible in the diminishing light.

"Legolas's mother was Silvan," said Aragorn, looking away from the eyes and back to the hobbits. "Therefore he is both."

The eyes blinked, drawing his attention back to them.

"The Elvenqueen? Bilbo never spoke of her. Was she there when he and the dwarves were in Mirkwood?" said Frodo, curious despite his weariness and the added burden of the ring.

Aragorn hesitated, and Gimli took his chance.

"The Elvenqueen? Bah, she was probably off somewhere, ignoring her duties as all the elves did the day my father and the rest of the Company escaped."

Gandalf frowned discouragingly at the dwarf, and he fell silent.

"What about Mister Legolas? Was he there when your father went to Mirkwood, Gimli?" said Merry.

"Ah yes," said Gimli, leaning back. "He was as bad as his father.

"_'Do not think I won't kill you, dwarf,'_ he said the first time he met the Company of Thorin. He had his bow pointed at their faces! Such rudeness. He had the king under the mountain standing before him, and yet he showed no respect and a complete lack of honor, just like his father, and probably his mother—!"

At that moment, Legolas, who had dropped soundlessly from the tree, came into the light, his eyes dancing with rage. Aragorn gulped.

He knew Legolas's history, and his mother was the one person you did not want to insult. But the rage drained out of them as quickly as it had come, and it was replaced with a deep sadness. He sat cross-legged on the ground next to Aragorn, placing his head in his hands.

"Please don't, Gimli. You can jab with your remarks about me as much as you like, but please do not speak of my family so."

Gimli did not even look a little taken aback at the almost desperate pleading from the elf, but instead he smiled as he realized he had found his weak spot.

"Why? Are they so bad you cannot bear to speak of them?"

Legolas sighed.

"And where was the Elvenqueen while the dwarves were there? Well, I could make a few guesses."

Legolas groaned softly as he remembered why she was not there, why she could not be. Why did this dwarf hate him so? Surely he could see—

"Perhaps she was off in the forest, talking at the trees like her son always does." He purposely used the word "at" to show his scorn for the subject.

Her face flashed before Legolas, and with it came the memories of her touch, light but soothing, and her voice, comforting him and keeping any of his fears at bay.

"And the Elvenking was off celebrating some festival or another instead of doing his duties."

His father. The one who, though not as close as his mother, was the one he admired. His smile, his deep laugh as an elfling Legolas told him something funny that had happened that day. Sitting on his lap, leaning against the strong chest, feeling safe before drifting off into sleep.

"As was his son. So grand and beautiful a festival all would want to come to it, they say? Nay, it was not. It was a gathering of dark, dangerous elves and their stupid royal family, all old and wise and powerful. Bah!"

That celebration had not been so. It was merry and lighthearted, filled with singing and dancing and the tinkling laughter of woodland elves ringing throughout the trees. Tears gathered in his eyes as he thought of his father, usually rigid and strict, loosening up and celebrating with his people on that day. The day when all troubles were to be put off until the next, and there was only joy.

"And what is the great Elvenking doing now? Neglecting his duties once again. He sends his son to Rivendell instead of coming himself, and he does not even care enough to prevent his only heir from going on a possibly fatal mission—"

"Stop it!" Legolas screamed, and he leaped up, tears in his eyes. "You know nothing of me, nor my mother and father!"

"Then tell us, oh mighty Prince Legolas, where was your mother when the dwarves were in Mirkwood? Give me a respectable answer and I may consider stopping my guessing game."

"She was not there—" Legolas practically spat at the dwarf as a single tear rolled, hot and salty, down his flushed cheeks. "—because she was dead."

There was a silence, and everyone looked shocked before looking accusingly at Gimli, who actually appeared shocked and was about to say something when Legolas began to speak again.

"My father is probably frantic with worry for me right now, but I have made my choice, and it was mine to make! And I will not die! I cannot! I am all he has left!"

Legolas paused, breathing heavily, before continuing.

"And he is all I have. So do not speak to me of irresponsibility, _dwarf_, for none of us have ever had any. We bear a greater burden, once borne by three but now by only two, than you could ever comprehend. Do not speak to me for guilt and grief when you yourself have not truly felt either."

There was a pause.

"Legolas Thranduilion, do not start this again. You cannot afford to blame yourself anymore," Gandalf said, breaking it, having heard the word "guilt" he came and guided the elf so he was sitting down on the ground again. Legolas seemed only half aware of it as he seethed at Gimli, who looked away hurriedly.

"You know what happened last time you put her death on your shoulders."

"I was a mere elfling then," Legolas said, and he barked out a laugh that was incredibly forced. "And I have never truly stopped. I can handle it better now that I am older, however, and I do not need your guidance, nor do I want it," he said, wiping the tears off his face and standing, looking once more the regal prince he was.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to go _'talk at the trees,'_ for no matter how hard it is for your little dwarven brain to comprehend, they are my comforters, and the ones I go to seeking wisdom." He sent a pointed glance at Gandalf. "Goodbye."

And he ran, jumped into a tree gracefully, and was gone.

The group sat in silence for a moment, everyone pondering what had happened except for Gandalf who merely sighed and mumbled something about a certain stubborn prince being just like their father. Gimli actually looked regretful, and Aragorn was staring into the tree line, worrying for his oldest and closest friend.

The hobbits were very confused, so they turned to one another and began to whisper.

"What was that?"

"Why did Mister Legolas get so angry?"

"What happened to his mother?"

"Where did Mister Legolas go?"

The questions continued but none of them had the answers, so they turned to Aragorn for help. But the ranger refused to say anything, instead he told them that when Legolas returned they should ask him directly.

"We shall wait for him to come back, then!" said Pippin, and the others nodded.

But the night drew on, and there was still no sign of Legolas. Eventually the hobbits fell into an exhausted sleep, as did the men. Only Gandalf remained on watch, and he smoked his pipe in silent vigil.

_A/N: Reviews are appreciated and loved and cherished!_

_Tell me what you think. There should be one or two more chapters left._


	2. Coldness

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! Seeing 37 emails from Fanfiction (so far) in my inbox made my day! :)_

The next morning, Aragorn was the first to awaken, and he yawned and stretched, rubbing his eyes, before stumbling to his feet and shaking Boromir, Gimli, and the hobbits into wakefulness.

Groaning, they all packed up the camp, and Aragorn did a head count in his mind.

One, two, three, four five, six, seven, and himself. Who was missing?

Legolas! The memory of the previous night hit him full force, and he looked around frantically before hurrying over to Gandalf.

"Gandalf, Legolas still has not returned," he said, and the Maia looked up at him from under the wide rim of his hat.

"We shall look for him, then," said Gandalf, getting to his feet and grabbing his staff with a sigh. "He will not have gone far. He knows he would need to be here to fight if there was trouble."

Aragorn nodded and announced the plan to the rest of the group. Everyone looked a little worried when the heard Legolas had not returned, but they agreed he would not have gone far, and they headed into the forest to look.

A ten or fifteen minute walk brought them to a heartbreaking sight. Legolas was up in one of the higher branches of a tree, and even from the ground the group could see the tear tracks on his face. His hands were held protectively around a small brown squirrel that was sleeping on his chest, and it was obvious that he had been trying to comfort himself and he had failed. His eyes were half-lidded when he slept, showing his exhaustion.

Aragorn, being the tallest and the best climber in the group, slowly made his way up to the branch. When he got there, he put his hand on Legolas's shoulder.

"Legolas, mellon-nin, you need to wake up, we have to leave."

Legolas's eyes regained awareness more slowly than normal, and Aragorn looked him over worriedly. The squirrel also returned to life and, seeing Aragorn, ran away from Legolas and back into the trees.

"Are you alright, mellon-nin?" said Aragorn, taking Legolas's shoulders. His voice became even more worried as he saw the Legolas was refusing to meet his eyes.

The elf gave a brief, wordless nod, and Aragorn suppressed as sigh as he jumped down to a lower branch with the grace of his people.

The man followed more slowly.

It was obvious immediately that Legolas was trying to ignore the prying gazes of the rest of the Fellowship, and he sighed and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes. Aragorn frowned. Elves didn't get tired.

"Let us be off," said Gandalf, walking in the direction they were meant to go and the rest of the group followed behind him. The hobbits occasionally glanced at Legolas, but he ignored them, instead letting his fingers brush against the trees and he listened to their comforting whispers. Their voices were far much more welcome than the voices of any of the mortals around him.

"Mister Legolas?"

A small voice from beside him made the elf's head snap up, and his mind was torn from the voice of the tree that he had been speaking with a moment ago. He looked at Pippin, who was the one trying to get his attention.

The rest of the group were also staring at him strangely, and he realized he was several yards in front of them.

"Mister Legolas? Did you hear what Mister Gandalf said?"

Legolas shook his head slightly, and Pippin saw a sadness in the usual bright eyes that he knew no mortal could ever understand. It would take years of grieving and feeling guilty to create eyes like that, he thought. Longer than a mortal could ever dream of living.

"He said that we are going to stop for a minute for lunch."

Legolas gave a little nod, but he could not bring himself to even smile at the young hobbit as horrifying images of his past continued to flash before his eyes. Pippin looked distressed at the lack of the elf's usual enthusiasm, but he told himself it was just lingering sadness and that the old Legolas would soon return.

Legolas stood far apart from the rest of the group, half watching as they all made tense conversation and looked at his over their shoulders, and half trying to push back the tide of memories that was overwhelming him. But he could not bring himself to speak to them to ease their hearts.

"Legolas? Are you not hungry, mellon-nin?" said Aragorn, approaching his friend, who stood hugging himself gently, as if he were cold.

There was the breeze that always accompanied the coming of winter, but elves did not feel the cold. He told himself it was just an attempt at comfort.

Legolas shook his head, his golden hair whirling around in the wind and making him look like an angel. A sad, remorseful angel.

"Are you alright, Legolas?" said the ranger, grabbing his friend's strong forearms and turning him toward him. "I know that Gimli's words were harsh and inconsiderate, but I did not expect them to affect you so."

Legolas shook his head.

_Not the words, mellon-nin. The memories they provoke is what troubles me._

"It is nothing, Estel," he said, so quietly the ranger almost couldn't hear it. "I am fine."

"Please, Legolas, I know you are not," Aragorn said, and he tried to fix his words as his friend's eyes hardened considerably. "I only worry for you, mellon-nin."

Legolas shook his head.

"Don't. I will be fine."

Aragorn noticed that Legolas had switched from "am" to "will be", and he looked abruptly at the elf, who realized his slip but didn't have time to respond in term when another biting early winter wind blew through the trees. Aragorn bit hard on his tongue to keep from groaning at the sudden cold, and when it passed he was utterly shocked to see that Legolas was hugging himself, shivering violently.

"Legolas!" he said, realizing that the elf's sudden sensitivity to the cold was real. Aragorn took the cloak he was wearing and quickly wrapped it around the slim, shaking shoulders.

"Aragorn, Legolas! We need to be going," said Gandalf, and Aragorn saw that Legolas's eyes went completely devoid of emotion as he looked at the dwarf by the wizard's side. Anger he could understand and reason with, but emptiness would give him no answers.

"Mister Legolas? Why are you wearing Strider's cloak? I thought elves didn't get cold!" said Sam, as the two approached, and Aragorn shrugged his shoulders, letting Legolas's somewhat subdued but still obvious shivering speak for itself as he went to the head of the group, where Gandalf was walking.

"Gandalf, something is very wrong with Legolas," he said, and the wizard looked up abruptly, having known the young elf since birth and having grown to care deeply for him.

"What makes you saw that? And what on Arda are you doing without your cloak? You'll catch a chill," said Gandalf.

"Legolas is wearing it. He's feeling the cold, Gandalf! What could be wrong with him?"

"STRIDER!"

The scream of Aragorn's name, torn from four mouths, made him whip around. Boromir, who had been walking in front of Legolas, had apparently turned, having heard a noise from behind him. The hobbits were surrounding him.

And now the elf lay, pale and unconscious, in his arms.

_A/N: Ooooh, cliffie!_

_Please review!_


	3. Empty

_A/N: Thanks everyone for your reviews! Here is the new chapter._

"Legolas!" Aragorn screamed, running to his friend and taking his from Boromir's arms into his own, feeling desperately on his neck for a pulse. It was weak and fluttery beneath his probing fingers.

Gandalf was quickly by their side as well, and he touched the elf's forehead, which would be unnervingly cold by human standards, but for an elf it was terrifying.

"He is fading," the wizard breathed, and he pointed to a clearing a few yards ahead.

"Get him there, and someone start a fire, quickly!"

The others ran to do his bidding and Aragorn stood, the elf light in his arms. They quickly made their way to the clearing, and Boromir had put out his bedroll to lay the elf upon as the hobbits and Gimli worked on getting a fire and water and such.

The moment the warmth of Aragorn's warmth left him, the elf began to shiver violently, curling in on himself, and even as he felt freezing sweat rolled down his temples.

"Get all the blankets we have! Put them on him!" Gandalf commanded, and to everyone's surprise it was Gimli that scurried away to do his bidding.

When he reappeared only seconds later with an armful of blankets, handing them to Aragorn, he was stunned by the growing rage in the ranger's eyes as he looked upon him.

"Do not come near him," said Aragorn. "You insensitive creature! Did it not occur to you the entire time you spoke your words to him that he was a person? That he has a soul that is as sensitive as anyone else's? That there was a legitimate _reason_ he did not want you to insult his family?"

Gimli was speechless, having thought the same thing over and over to himself after the previous night, but hearing them from the ranger was something different. He could not help the tears that gathered in his eyes, and he clamped his hand over his mouth to contain a sob that was reaching up the back of his throat as he berated himself from the inside. Aragorn was still giving him a harsh look, so he backed away, realizing his help was not wanted.

Gandalf was not particularly pleased with what Aragorn had said to Gimli, but he himself would have said something similar, so he let it pass and took the blankets, spreading them one at a time over Legolas's shivering form.

"What is wrong with him, Gandalf?" asked Aragorn softly when he had finished.

"He is fading," Gandalf said, just as soft, and Aragorn's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously.

"No!" he clamped a hand over his mouth, hating the tears that gathered in his eyes as he looked upon the elf's face. In the flurry of activity he had not yet had the opportunity to look at his friend closely. The elf was incredibly pale and sweaty, and occasional shivers still wracked his body. His eyes were closed, which was unusual in itself, and his eyes were searching around the inside of his eyelids, as if he was watching something. And he probably was, Aragorn told himself. There were plenty of memories that Gimli's words could have provoked.

He brushed a clump of hair, damp with sweat, from the elf's forehead and took Legolas's longer fingers within his own, squeezing them as if it would help.

"He cannot…he must not leave us…" Aragorn said, looking up at the wizard, searching his emotionless eyes for a source of confirmation that Legolas would pull through for them.

"No, Aragorn," Gandalf said, looking positively miserable. "I don't think he will."

Aragorn was speechless for a moment.

"What do you mean, you don't think—" he cried, but at that moment Legolas's eyes snapped open, his breathing unsteady and heavy.

"Legolas!" said Aragorn, gripping his friend's hand within both of his own. "Are you alright?"

Legolas did not seem to see him, in fact, it was like he was looking straight through him, his eyes completely empty and their usual light gone.

"Legolas? Please speak to me, mellon-nin. I am worried about you."

Legolas remained silent. Aragorn sighed, and he could not help but pull the elf into an embrace. Legolas remained cold and stiff in his arms, and when he drew back, there was still no emotion in his eyes.

"Legolas," said Gandalf, and Legolas stared at him, eyes glassy and emotionless. "We cannot afford to lose you, and neither can your ada. Please speak to us, penneth, if it will make you feel better."

Legolas did not seem to hear him, and he tried to stand, stumbling clumsily over his own feet. Worried, Aragorn pressed him down, but Legolas did not respond well to being restrained and began to make unintelligible sounds, reaching out desperately. It took Aragorn a few seconds to realize he was reaching for the trees around the clearing.

Realizing the elf's need to speak with his long-time protectors, Aragorn released the elf and watched as he tripped and caught himself, stumbling toward the trees with a desperate need. His eyes fell upon Gimli, and a flicker of anger filled his eyes, but it disappeared so quickly Aragorn thought he might have imagined it.

Legolas remained frozen, as did Gimli, and they stared at each other. Dark brown eyes met icy blue, and the emotion came, gradually at first but soon exponentially, into Legolas's eyes once more, and the look of sadness and defeat Gimli saw within his companion's heart was crushing.

Turning back to the trees, Legolas began to walk toward them again.

"Wait, elf—" said Gimli, and Legolas stopped but refused to turn and look at him, instead choosing to merely pause.

"Yes?" the word, so full of hurt and fear, drifted through the clearing.

Gulping, Gimli tried to swallow his pride and the words from his father.

_"Never trust an elf."_

_"They are deceitful, conceited beings."_

_"I hope you never have to meet one."_

Looking past the words, he realized that he had never heard anything so far from the truth in his life. The being before him was a beautiful blend of strength and vulnerability; he had the strength of ten dwarven warriors and a heart that welcomed all, despite their potential to hurt him. Yet if any of those that he welcomed hurt him enough, it could kill him as surely as any sword.

"I…I'm so sorry, laddie," Gimli said, trying to wipe away the tears on his cheeks before they fell into his beard. "I was so wrong about you. Please forgive me."

He could not stop his little dwarven legs from hurtling toward the elf, hugging his around the waist. Legolas looked positively startled, and he stared down at the dwarf with wide eyes.

After a few seconds, Gimli drew back, and as he saw Legolas's bewildered face his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He was about to speak, but Legolas's face contracted with pain, and he cried out, falling to his knees.

"Nana!" he yelled, seemingly not with them in the clearing anymore. Aragorn and Gandalf rushed to him, but by the time they got there,

Legolas was already back on his feet, and he shuddered once before moving his hand to his temple.

"Sorry…" he said, and the rest of the group looked at him, concerned, but they did not say anything.

"Well, let us be going," said Gandalf, looking at Legolas. "If you think you are fit to walk, that is."

Legolas nodded wordlessly, and they packed up their temporary camp and began to walk again.

When they stopped for the night, a fire was made once again, and they gathered around it. Sam made a simple stew with some rabbit meat Aragorn and Legolas had gathered a few days prior, and before Legolas could protest, there was a bowl in his hands and everyone was looking at him expectantly.

He took a small sip to please them, and they immediately went back to their own meals seeing he had started. Fading didn't effect an appetite, apparently.

"Legolas?" Merry questioned cautiously, and the elf looked up from his food blankly.

"Um, Pippin and I were wondering…um…could you tell us…about your mother?"

Legolas's expression must have turned grave, because Merry immediately backtracked.

"No-I mean, you don't have to…we were just curious. You know, whatever. It's not important."

There was a pause.

"Galadriel."

"What?" said Merry, looking up at Legolas, who had spoken the name softly.

"They said her beauty rivaled that of Lady Galadriel, in the Golden Wood. Should you ever see the Lady of Lothlorien, you will know what I mean. But my mother possessed a different kind of beauty than Galadriel, because she did not have the strength of a ring of power to depend on, and she was ruling a darker realm."

"What did she look like?" said Pippin, curious even though he didn't know who Galadriel was.

"She was…maybe a little taller than I am now, and very slim. She had brown hair, not dark as Elrond's, but…maybe halfway between his and mine? It was down to her waist, and curly. She always wore it down when she was on duty as Queen, but when she was out in the woods it was in a simple braid. And she had green eyes, bright as the leaves of our homeland once were."

"You don't look much like her, then."

"Well, I have my father's eyes and hair, but if you compare our facial features we look very different. That is what I inherited from her."

"And…well, your father must have been very busy, right? Did she take care of you?"

Legolas was misty eyes as he responded. "Yes. Every day, unless there was something urgent, in which case I would be left with a maid. But most of the time she stayed with me while my father ran the realm."

Merry nodded, knowing his most prominent question was the one they could not ask. Pippin, however, did not have that boundary.

'How did she die?'

_A/N: Annnnnnd...another cliffhanger! MWAHAHAHAHA!_

_Please review!_


	4. Scars

"How did she die?"

Aragorn had been about to tell Pippin that he should think before he spoke, but Legolas's hand on his arm made him turn to the elf, who wore a sad smile.

"Do not be angry on my behalf, Estel. If I am not angry with Pippin, you shouldn't be, considering it wasn't even you he asked."

Aragorn took a deep breath and nodded, relaxing again and leaning backwards on his hands. Legolas turned back to Pippin.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he said, a smile on his face that contrasted sharply with the sorrow in his eyes. "It is not a happy story."

Pippin nodded slowly after thinking about it for a minute.

"Maybe if we know, we can help you feel better, Mister Legolas!" said Pippin, and Legolas's smile grew a little.

"I think at this point, I am beyond help," he said. "But thank you."

There was a pause as Legolas thought about where to begin.

"Well…to put it simply, we were captured, my mother and I, when I was very young, equivalent to, perhaps…a four, maybe five year old human. We were in the forest, which was not reached by the darkness at the time, and we were captured by a group of men.

"We were there for almost four months, and they hurt her every day…" he took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to remain calm. "And occasionally they would bring me, to hurt me, knowing that it would affect her more to hear her son's screams than her own."

The hobbits all stared at him in horror, and he swallowed thickly.

"Those were some of the most fearful days of my life. But she did not tell them anything of our kingdom. She could not. She was their Queen, she could not betray them. We did not know, but there was a Mirkwood elf, disguised within the humans. He left too late to get help, however.

"It was a day, almost four months after we captured that I unintentionally baited the man, and I told him that if he would fight my mother in a fair situation, she would win. He agreed to fight her, and said I was the prize for the winner. Normally Nana probably would have won, but she had four months' worth of torture wounds on her body. He killed her. I watched her die."

Now the hobbits were openly gaping, and Boromir was wide-eyed, his hand over his mouth. Gimli was also staring openly at the elf, and his eyes were swarming with emotion. Gandalf and Aragorn, who had already heard the story, still looked saddened, and Aragorn came up next to his friend and put his arm around his shoulder in support. Legolas leaned into the ranger, still feeling cold and appreciating the warmth that came from the human.

"A day later my father and his soldiers raided the men's base, brought there by the elf that had been hiding among the men, and they found me. I was so confused, I didn't know where my mother had gone…elves weren't supposed to die. We went home, but my father was so caught up in his own grief he spent two weeks all alone in his room. I don't know exactly what happened to him during that time, but someone had to run the kingdom while he was absent."

Boromir sputtered, staring at the elf before him in newfound respect and awe. He had thought of him as a regular elf before, stronger than any man because of the bodies they were given, but there was apparently an unbelievably strong and resistant spirit within the prince, as well.

"Don't tell me it was you?" said Gimli, also looking amazed and increasingly guilty. "No one that young can take over the responsibilities of a king! Not even for a day!"

"It was me," Legolas said. "And I did. But when my father finally came out of his self-pity, I was already run to the ground, and I was ready to fade. So I went into the woods and came very close to doing so. He found me just in time and managed to convince to convince me to keep living, somehow."

Telling the story and having to endure all the images that came in the back of his mind in the process had exhausted Legolas, and he leaned even further into the ranger, who put his arms around him, noticing that his body was still freezing.

"You can go to sleep, Legolas," said Aragorn, and Legolas did just that, his eyes closing and his breathing deepening. Aragorn gasped at the sight of the elf's closed eyes, but said nothing. Gandalf frowned in worry. Aragorn ran his fingers absentmindedly through the elf's silky hair as he looked at the rest of the Fellowship.

Merry and Pippin and Sam were crying, and Frodo had tears building in his eyes as well. Boromir and Gimli were stubbornly refusing to cry, but even they had tears in their eyes even as they denied them permission to fall. They all stared at the pale, sleeping elf before them, and they could not draw their eyes away, knowing that behind the happy and exuberant soul was a wall of unbreakable strength and will.

"Go to sleep, everyone," said Gandalf, drawing their attention away from the elf. "I will take the first watch."

Everyone nodded reluctantly, lying down and preparing to sleep. Soon gentle snores were heard around the camp, and Gandalf sat and looked out into the darkness, the reflection of the flames of the fire dancing in his eyes.

O:o:O

The next morning, Merry was supposed to be on watch, but he wasn't. He was sleeping soundly, leaning against a rock. So Legolas was the first one to awaken.

Seeing the sleeping hobbit, Legolas climbed into the tree above him and grabbed a pinecone, throwing it gently so it would hit him in the back. There was no mischievous spark in his eyes as he did it, though, he only did it because he wanted to wake Merry and this was the best was to do it without being seen.

Merry awoke with a start, and Legolas saw this and gave a small smile, beginning to weave his way soundlessly through the trees. His keen eyes had seen a lake about a league away, and he wished to bathe. He was still cold, but he knew going in the probably freezing water wouldn't make it any worse, and he felt dirty, having not had time to wash since they left Rivendell almost two or three weeks ago.

Arriving at the lake, he undressed quickly and eased his way into the water, biting the inside of his cheek at the coldness. How did men and other races have the strength to endure this feeling of freezing all winter and every time the temperature dropped?

He dunked his head into the water and gasped at the freezing temperature of the water, but having his head under the water made him feel warmer for some reason, so he did it again, this time staying under for a few minutes, which wasn't a lot for an elf, and he rubbed at his hair, trying to get the grit out of it that resulted from the toils of the travelling.

Some may call him prissy or overly self-conscious about dirt, but he just liked it better when he was clean, if he could choose. He could deal with dirt if he had to, and the discomfort of the grime that grew on one's skin over time, but he'd rather not.

After thoroughly rubbing down his entire body to get the dirt off, he stepped out of the water and pulled on his leggings. As he reached for his undershirt and tunic, however, a voice interrupted him.

"Mister Legolas?"

He whipped around pieces of his wet hair clinging to his face. Sam and Frodo were there, and they were staring at him. Well, more specifically, they were staring at his back, and the scars there.

Sam came up to him, staring wide-eyed at the whip marks that ran all the way down his back. Legolas sighed. Could he not have ten minutes to himself?

"I thought…I thought elven scars faded?" said Frodo, just as stunned.

"Not poisoned ones," Legolas said curtly, pulling on his blue shirt and buttoning it deftly before pulling his tunic over his head. "Not when the whip has a poison to make it so the wound heals five times as slowly. Scars that would normally take a thousand years to heal will take five thousand, and it has been less than three millennia since I got them."

Sam and Frodo didn't know what to be surprised about, Legolas's age or the scars on his back that they had just discovered. Frodo coughed nervously.

"Um, we just came to get you for breakfast."

Legolas shook his head.

"I'm not hungry. But thank you."

The two hobbits nodded, and they began the trek back to camp, wondering at the sudden distance the elf had put between himself and them.

_A/N: No cliffie this time._

_For more on Legolas's mother's death, see "Caught" and "Hello". Both go into a little more detail, and in "Caught" Legolas actually relives the whole thing._

_Also, please check out and subscribe to my community, "Great Legolas Fanfiction" if you like my stories. If you are interested in becoming a staff member, just PM me!_

_Please review!_


	5. Ada

_A/N: I am in a really, write-y mood right now, so I decided to post the final chapter a little earlier than expected._

The elf was brought back to attention at the sound of footsteps approaching him, loud enough to be human or dwarven. Why couldn't they leave him alone? All he wanted was ten minutes peace, and even that the Valar would not give him.

"Legolas?" said a voice, and he recognized it as Aragorn's. He remained where he was sitting comfortably in the branches in a tree, not bothering to reply. Maybe if he couldn't find him, Estel would leave, he thought, and he squashed the rational thought that the man would be more likely to panic and send the entire company searching for him.

"Ah, there you are, mellon-nin!" said Aragorn, and he began to climb up the tree, eventually sitting next to the elf.

Legolas shied away from the human, leaning almost desperately into the trunk of the tree.

Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

"I brought some breakfast, Legolas," said Aragorn cheerfully, holding out a piece of bread for his friend to take. "I know you said you weren't hungry, but you need to keep up your strength." His happiness in such a sorrowful world was irritating.

Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

Aragorn looked at Legolas, who had not responded the entire time, and the elf was staring at him with unreadable eyes, not taking the bread.

"Legolas?"

Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

"What's wrong, mellon-nin?"

Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. That was all he wanted.

Why wouldn't they leave him alone?

Aragorn put his hands on Legolas's shoulders in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. But the elf did not see it as that, he saw it as Aragorn trying to make him stay, and not letting him escape into his solitude.

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. That was all he wanted.

"Why won't you leave me alone?!"

Aragorn was so startled that he drew back sharply, looking at the elf in horrified surprise as he screwed his eyes shut and began to shudder with, what was that, anger?

And then he was gone, into the branches above. Aragorn watched his shrinking figure in worry, and he knew that even if Legolas wanted to be alone, he needed all the support he could get.

So Aragorn began to climb.

When he reached the elf, he was in the very top of the tree, looking out over the wood they were in, and the wind was whipping his hair around his face.

"Legolas."

There was a pause as Aragorn stood on the branch below his friend, and Legolas looked down on him.

"Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?"

"Yes. But I did not, because though you do not think so, leaving you alone is the worst possible thing I could do for you right now."

"And why is that? You know nothing of my needs or wants."

"I do know that if we are going to stop your soul from fleeing to Mandos, you cannot be left to grieve all alone," said Aragorn firmly, but then his face softened. "I really want to help you, mellon-nin, and you do not need to hold onto your pride in front of me. Please let me in, Legolas."

Legolas looked down on him for a moment, before turning back to the horizon and motioning for the ranger to come and sit beside him.

Aragorn smiled widely at the acceptance and climbed onto the branch, sitting cautiously on the perch where only a wood-elf could feel comfortable. The view was good, however, and he could see the sun, which was in the process of struggling to rise high enough to start the day. A strangled sob from beside him made him turn to Legolas, who was struggling not to cry, a hand over his mouth.

"I…I have borne it all these centuries, and yet a dwarf's conceited words manage to break me. How weak I have become!"

"No, Legolas, you are not weak," said Aragorn, taking the elf's hand in his own. "You are the strongest person I know. I have no idea how you do it, but you've managed to stay cheerful and good-natured despite everything you've been through. Your spirit is just as resilient as your body."

"Estel, what's happening to me?" Legolas said. "I don't want to die. I never have, other than that one time. I don't want to! Why does Mandos call for me so?"

"I do not know, mellon-nin, but you must tell him that you want to stay with us. You cannot leave us behind!" Aragorn said, taking Legolas into his arms and holding him close to his chest, noticing with a smile that Legolas's hair was damp from being washed. He was still the same old germ-phobic elf, despite everything.

"Ada…" Legolas murmured, and he leaned into Aragorn more.

"It is not your Ada, Legolas. It is me, Estel," said Aragorn firmly. He gave a wry smile. "I hope that will suffice."

Legolas looked up with pleading eyes.

"I…I know this sounds childish, but…"

"Do not worry if it is childish, if it makes you feel better I will do anything."

"Could you…be my ada? Just for a minute? I could be me and you could pretend to be Ada."

Aragorn was left speechless at the request.

"I'm sorry. I should not have asked," said Legolas, hanging his head in shame.

"No, ion-nin, it is alright. You can ask me anything," said Aragorn, trying to make his voice a little deeper to imitate Thranduil. Legolas gave a little chuckle and leaned into Aragorn, closing his eyes and trying to imagine that the person holding him was his father.

"I'm scared," he admitted, and Aragorn felt out of place. Here was his friend, pouring his heart out in the way he could only do with his father, and he felt like he was treading on sacred ground.

"Do not be," he murmured. "You have everyone trying to support you, and if you accept it and trust them you will have their strength as well as yours. You will pull through. You always have."

Aragorn felt like he was comforting himself as well as his friend. Legolas snuggled into his tunic, and he put his hand on the elf's unbraided hair.

They remained like that for a while, and after a few minutes Aragorn realized the elf had fallen asleep in his arms. He smiled, looking from his friend's peaceful face, his eyes slightly open at last while he slept, to the sunrise, and the promise of new beginnings.

THE END

_A/N: And that is the end of this little story. I hope you all liked it. I have midterms this week, on Monday, Thursday, adn Friday, so I probably won't write as much becuase I will be studying. But you can expect the beginning of the sequel to Caught (still haven't thought of a name yet, I tend to come up with those on the spot when entering story info) by the end of the week._

_Please review! It means a lot to me._


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